


almyran pine

by aac7



Series: friends being a headache [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blue Lions shenanigans, F/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), just some good fun, perfect teatime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26850514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aac7/pseuds/aac7
Summary: “I am not her favourite,” Felix argues. The professor definitely didn’t play favourites, and the way she would beat him around the training grounds with a wooden sword was as good an indicator as any. “If you asked, she would probably invite any of you into her room for tea.”“Maybe,” Ingrid says, head tilted as she sends him a sly grin. “But none of us are you. She clearly has some sort of bias towards broody swordsmen.”_____In which everyone is trying to score an exclusive teatime invite into the professor's room, and also wonder why Felix has been less snarky.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Series: friends being a headache [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958674
Comments: 13
Kudos: 102





	almyran pine

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Felix apologizes, setting down his tray of food and claiming his usual spot beside Sylvain. He doesn’t wait for them to accept the apology, instead picking up his fork and spearing a piece of spicy fish. 

The pleasant burn on his tongue further lifts his spirits. The Spice Festival was always his favourite, after all. When he finally lifts his gaze to ask Ingrid for her thoughts, he notices that she, along with everyone else, is staring at him. Annette’s mouth hangs open, Dedue’s brow is raised, Ashe’s eyes are wide as saucers. He hears Mercedes giggle as Sylvain’s face breaks out into a stupidly large smile, and Ingrid bites her lip to keep from joining him. Even the boar, who’d been actively making the effort to give him space, wears a look of general amusement at Felix’s expense.

Regardless, he’d never been one for eye contact, so he averts his gaze back down to his plate, and the piece of fish he swallows takes a moment longer to go down. “What?” 

“You’re smiling,” Ingrid finally says, pointing at him with her fork. “It’s not like you.” 

He almost doesn’t believe her and brings a gloved hand to his face, feeling the upward curve of his lips. “So?” He grunts, brows furrowing. “Am I not allowed to be happy?” 

“Sure you are,” Sylvain says beside him. “But a happy Felix doesn’t usually mean a smiling one. It usually means a less bitchy one. You know— insults that come from the heart.”

Felix is about to retort that his claim certainly isn’t true, but everyone at the table beats him to it, already murmuring in agreement. He can’t believe what idiotic friends he has. “If I insult you, that’s because you deserve to be insulted.”

“No need to be so defensive,” Sylvain chuckles as Felix tightens his grip on the fork. “We just want to know why you’re so happy, Fe. Come on, share the joy.” 

“It’s none of your business,” he huffs, glaring down at his plate. 

“Fraldarius.”

Felix’s heart jumps up into his throat at the sound of the professor’s voice, and everyone at the table turns to watch as she leisurely strolls towards them. “I think you left this in the training hall.” 

After a few flourished twirls between her fingers, she holds a familiar dagger by the hilt, the handle held out towards him. “Yes, that’s mine,” he chokes out when he finally finds his voice. “Thank you for finding it.” 

“By the way, about our-” he watches as her eyes flick over his nosy group of friends, “um, meeting, I’ll have to push it back about an hour. Seteth asked that I speak with him about the Knights’ movements in our upcoming Arianrhod campaign. Is that alright?”

A hint of disappointment causes his shoulders to sag slightly, but he understands it can’t be helped. “Yes, I’ll meet you then,” he confirms. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Sylvain looks between the two of them in awe, that stupid smile slowly reappearing on his stupid face. She reaches out to squeeze his shoulder before turning on her heel and heading towards the exit, humming as she goes. Felix releases the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when she’s out of sight, turning back to the table. 

He’s allowed a beat of silence before Ingrid gasps so loudly that it draws the attention of a nearby group of knights, who shoot them a questioning look before returning to their own conversation. “What now?” Felix groans. 

“You are smiling again,” Dedue says, his face stoic but his voice containing an unusual amused tone. 

“I am not,” he lies through gritted teeth, purposefully downturning the corners of his lips. 

“You were!” Annette cries, her arms flailing and whacking Dimitri in the shoulder. “You’re just hiding it now!” 

This time it’s Sylvain that gasps loudly, one hand over his heart and the other pointing at Felix accusingly while saying, “It’s the professor, isn’t it?” Felix is considering using his dagger to cut Sylvain’s finger off, but his friend chooses the right time to slap his hand onto the table, making everyone present jump. “She’s the source of your joy!” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Felix grumbles under his breath, wondering why he can’t have a single peaceful lunch with his friends. So what if the heat from her touch lingers on his shoulder? Or that her eyes when they spar - bright and determined - was an image burned into his brain? It didn’t mean anything. 

“It’s not,” Ingrid denies, shaking her head. “On my way back from the training grounds a few nights ago, I saw you go into her room. You came back to the dorm an hour later humming the exact tune she just was, and with the biggest smile on your face.” 

Now that statement was problematic for two reasons. 

First, it meant that he had somehow missed Ingrid’s moving form that night. For all the battlefield awareness he had prided himself on, he hadn’t even known she was around. Were his senses dulling?

Second, Ingrid had stated her observation in front of _Sylvain_ of all people. She’d claimed that he’d gone into the professor’s room and come back humming. A fool could know what conclusion he would draw. 

As expected Sylvain gasps, fist pumping the air. “Dimitri, our boy is finally getting laid!” 

The prince chokes, and Dedue pounds him on the back. Ashe’s face is bright pink, either from the lewd topic or the fact that he’s about to pop a lung trying not to laugh at Felix. Mercedes is giggling into her hand, and Annette’s mouth once again hangs open. 

Silence is incriminating, so Felix decides to clear the air. “I am not getting laid,” he says as calmly as possible. “Nor do I need to get laid, you pig,” he spits. 

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re going into the professor’s room,” Ingrid annoyingly points out. Next time she asks for his leftovers, he won’t give them to her.

“Yeah, if it’s not to get laid, then what is it?” Sylvain prods, leaning into Felix’s personal space. 

“Tea,” he grounds out before Sylvain can fill anyone elses heads with any more ridiculous nonsense. “I go to her room for _tea._ ” He wasn’t exactly lying. It’d started the day his father had joined their army. A kind courtesy she’d extended when he didn’t wish to be found by his old man. A safe place for him to escape the watchful eyes of the Fraldarius troops and their leader. The gazebo where she’d usually have tea with her students and friends was too crowded anyways, and he much rather preferred the comforting calm of her room. 

It was a habit that carried on even after his father had passed, occurring more frequently as his feet carried him to her doorstep when he knew she was free. Before he knew it, he was knocking on her door with one hand, a bag of Almyran pine ready to be brewed in the other. 

The group silently blinks at him, and with a pulse of annoyance, he realizes that his fish is turning cold. He catches the exact moment that he feels his small smile turns into a frown as he pushes it around his plate. So he had been smiling. 

“Strange,” Mercedes hums thoughtfully. “The professor has never invited me into her room for tea.”

“Me neither,” Dimitri nods, and the rest of the table chime in to agree. 

“I guess the professor does pick favourites,” Annette chirps, rocking in her seat. “Funny, you’d think the smartest one would be her favourite…”

“I am _not_ her favourite,” Felix argues. The professor definitely didn’t play favourites, and the way she would beat him around the training grounds with a wooden sword was as good an indicator as any. “If you asked, she would probably invite any of you into her room for tea.” 

“Maybe,” Ingrid says, head tilted as she sends him a sly grin. “But none of us are you. She clearly has some sort of bias towards broody swordsmen.” 

Surely she’s not talking about him? “ _Broody_ _swordsmen—_ ” 

His sputtering is interrupted by Sylvain, who jolts out of his seat, both hands slamming down onto the surface of the table. “Ingrid is totally right. She gives you more attention in her free time than the rest of us. When I say ‘free time,’ I mean indulging in leisurely activity. Like tea in her room.” 

“She gives us all equal attention,” Felix insists. He points at Annette and Mercedes, “she always cooks and bakes with you two.” 

“To make sure we don’t burn the place down,” Annette sighs, and Mercedes gives her a pat on the shoulder. _Alright,_ he silently admits. That checks out. They didn’t have the resources to spare in repairing the kitchen should those two be left to their own devices. 

“Well, what about the times she helps you two in the stables,” he tries again, looking between Ingrid and Sylvain. 

“She’s there as a mediator,” Ingrid points out, eyes narrowing at Sylvain. “She helps me keep him on track.” Knowing his childhood friends, Felix supposes that she might be right. Ingrid and Sylvain don’t get anything done when left to their own devices. 

He narrows his eyes down the table at his next victim. “You,” he says to Dimitri. “She’s always making time for you at the training grounds.” He knows this because last week she’d only given him two bouts before switching her attention to Dimitri.

“It’s been five years and some,” Dimitri shrugs. “She wants to correct my form.” Felix leans back in his seat, reminiscing on the last few battles. His form had been sloppy and in need of correction. 

He’s nearly at his wits end, and finds himself scrambling for something to prove Sylvain wrong. At this point, he’ll take anything. “Okay...well she’s always in the greenhouse with you,” he says, pointing to Ashe and Dedue. 

“Pure coincidence,” Ashe brushes off. “She likes to check in on her lavender, and sometimes runs into us when we’re weeding the garden.”

“Violets,” Felix corrects abruptly, the word leaving his mouth before he can stop himself, his cheeks ablaze when they all shoot him amused looks. “She’s growing violets, not lavender.” 

Sylvain grips his shoulder, shaking his head, shoulders moving with quiet laughter. “Felix, buddy, the fact that I don’t even have to ask how you know all of this speaks for itself. Honestly, I’m not even offended to know that your late night pillow talk involves gossiping about us.”

Felix absolutely does _not_ blush at the mention of ‘pillow talk.’ “That doesn’t mean I’m her favourite,” he snaps, but he honestly doesn’t know why he’s being so defensive. “That just means that most of you still act childish enough to require supervision to complete menial tasks.” 

His insult doesn’t phase anyone, in fact, they look more convinced than ever of the professor’s so-called favouritism. 

“You’re really not going to believe us, huh?” Ingrid sighs, resting her elbows on the table. “How about a little experiment? We all have until dinner tonight to convince the professor to invite us back to her room for tea. If one of us gets in, then you’re right, you aren’t her favourite. If not, then we’re right, and you, mister broody swordsman, are in fact her favourite.” 

“Fine,” Felix concedes, picking up his plate of cold fish and rising out of his seat. He honestly doesn’t see the point of their silly game, they were due to march out to Arianrhod any day now. They should be training. “It’s like you guys like losing to me.” 

  
  


__________

**Variable #1:**

**Annette**

To no one’s surprise, it’s overachiever Annette who makes the first move in proving Ingrid’s point. She wastes no time, dragging them all out of the dining hall and positioning them a few metres from the professor’s room, hidden in some bushes. “Watch,” she says, marching straight up to her door and knocking three times in an odd pattern.

The door opens a few seconds later, with Byleth standing in the doorway. “Annette?”

“Hi, professor!” She chirps happily, holding out her fancy porcelain tea set. “I got some sweet buns, and was wondering if you wanted to share them over some tea with me? I even brought a little gift for you!” She transfers the tray onto one arm, digging into a pocket of her dress with her free hand. Even from a distance, Felix can see how Byleth’s eyes widen, holding her arm out in the likely instance that the tea set should slip off Annette’s arm. “Here it is!” She announces, holding up an odd shaped decoration. “It’s a dream catcher!” 

Byleth takes the thing, inspecting it’s hanging feathers. “I...don’t know what to do with this,” she admits. 

“I can show you!” Annette beams, holding up her tea set. “If you’ll let me in, I can help you put it up and set up a little tea party for us!”

He can tell that Byleth is startled, and judging by the way her eyes narrow, a little suspicious. “I would love that,” she says, and for some strange reason, Felix feels a dull of... something in his chest. It’s similar to disappointment, but a little worse. “But I can’t right now,” she adds, slowly reducing the width of her open door. “I have to meet Felix at the training grounds in a few minutes. Thank you for the dream catcher though. Maybe we can have tea another time?”

Despite the rejection and the obvious lie, Annette’s bright smile doesn’t falter. “Okay, some other time,” she agrees, turning away as Byleth shuts the door.

“I’m always training,” Felix points out when the rest of his classmates laugh about Byleth’s excuse. “It was a safe bet.” 

  
  


__________

  
  


**Variable #2:**

**Ashe & Mercedes**

  
  


An hour later, Ashe and Mercedes have teamed up and come up with a so-called foolproof plan. They drag Felix out of the training hall, hiding him behind a nearby pillar by the professor’s room. He’d much rather be training than watching his friends conduct this little experiment of theirs. At least he knows why getting hit with Sylvain’s training lance hurts. He’d take the physical pain of a blow to the side over the confusing emotional ache in his chest at the idea of the professor actually inviting someone else back into her room for tea.

As Ashe knocks on the door, Mercedes adjusts a few blooms in the vase of flowers in her arms, looking back at Felix and offering him a sweet smile. Between the two of them, saying no should be physically impossible.

“Good afternoon, professor!” Ashe greets cheerily when she opens the door, holding out a canister of lavender tea. “Mercedes and I have noticed that, as always, you’ve been working extremely hard lately, and thought you could use a little break.” He shakes the canister slightly, drawing Byleth’s gaze to it. “Lavender is best known for its relaxation properties.” 

“So it is,” Byleth nods, her expression unreadable. 

Mercedes takes that as her cue, holding up her vase. “I brought you some flowers as a thank you, professor. Maybe Ashe and I can help you arrange them around your room to create a relaxing atmosphere as we drink some relaxing tea?” She suggests hopefully. 

Byleth blinks a few times before looking between her two former students. She takes the flowers from Mercedes and takes a whiff, a small smile on her lips. “I thank you for the kind offer, but I’m getting ready to hold a swordsmanship seminar in a few minutes,” she says, her face so serious that he almost believes her. “Perhaps we can share some of your tea in the gazebos another time?”

Ashe and Mercedes exchange a look, and Felix can hear the mirth in their voices as they agree to hold her to her offer. 

When Felix is finally allowed to leave, he’s on his way back to the training grounds when he hears the familiar click of heels behind him. “Fraldarius.” 

He stops to allow her to catch up to him, turning when he feels her hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m holding an impromptu swordsmanship seminar,” she says, and a smile tugs on the corner of his mouth. “Do you want to come?” 

__________

  
  


**Variable #3:**

**Ingrid & Sylvain**

  
  


The professor’s swordsmanship seminars are always wildly popular. Soldiers would drop whatever they were doing the moment they saw her name on the schedule. Whether it was at the crack of dawn or near midnight, the training grounds were full of people wishing to learn from the wielder of the Sword of the Creator.

Ingrid and Sylvain happened to be two of them. 

Ingrid was believable. Extremely versatile with weaponry and not half-bad with a sword, her presence wouldn’t raise many questions.

Sylvain was another story. 

Swords had never been a strength of his, and he’d spent the majority of the hour bothering both his friends, and earning many a stern look from the professor up until the end. 

“Gautier,” she says, her voice eerily calm despite the annoyance set on her brow. “Since you’re so keen on picking fights, why don’t you come up here and show me what you’ve learned?” 

Not missing a beat, Sylvain straightens and flicks some stray hair out of his eyes, striding up to the front of the training grounds and taking up a relaxed stance across from Byleth. “Do your worst, Professor,” he goads, a lazy grin on his face. 

She casts him an amused glance. “Oh, you thought I was talking about me? I meant with him.” Sylvian follows the blade of her sword, eyes landing on Felix, who rolls his shoulders a few times and swings his training sword around, crest of Fraldarius shining proudly. 

“Shit,” Sylvain swears, paling a little as Felix approaches the front. 

Karma certainly is sweet.

~~~

Felix never goes easy, a fact proven by a very bruised Sylvain, who’s currently sprawled out on the steps of the training ground as the last few attendants of the professor’s seminar trickle out. The professor casts a few heals as Sylvain groans in discomfort, Ingrid and Felix snickering each time.

“Will you be needing anything else?” Byleth asks as the warm glow of her faith magic fades, pushing herself up off her knees and wiping her hands on her trousers. 

Suddenly alive with energy, Sylvain jumps up onto his feet. “Actually, yes,” he answers, leaning against a nearby pillar. “You, me, some tea in the privacy of your room. I have a few things I’d like to discuss with you, Professor.” 

She seems taken aback by his answer, raising a brow. “What must you discuss with me?” 

“Marriage,” he winks, and Ingrid rolls her eyes, shoving him aside. 

“In all seriousness, Professor, I do wish to discuss my battalion’s position in our upcoming siege,” Ingrid cuts in. “I’d be happy to discuss it over some tea.” 

Tactless, both of them. 

As Byleth opens her mouth to reply, the bells toll loudly, and she looks towards the door. “I can’t right now,” she sighs. “I have a meeting with Seteth, and then I have plans.” 

“I thought that would work,” Ingrid murmurs as they watch her push through the door. “It’s basic psychology. The door-in-the-face technique almost always works. The undesirable request followed by the actual request.”

“Me, undesirable?” Sylvain gasps. “Ingrid, my friend, you really do hurt me so.” 

“Who invites their professor to tea to talk about marriage?” 

“ _Former_ professor,” Sylvain reminds her. “I wasn’t going to— Hey, Felix? Where are you going?” 

“It’s dinnertime,” he calls back as he walks away. “I guess I lose.” He doesn’t turn around, not wanting them to see the smile that’s returned to his face. 

__________

  
  


Byleth can smell the tea brewing when she opens the door to her room, stepping into the dim candlelight and shutting the door behind her with a soft click. “I see you’ve made good use of that key,” she murmurs, setting down her stack of parchment.

“I wanted it to be ready for when you were done,” Felix says from his spot on her bed. His cloak and sword belt lay across the back of her desk chair. “How was your meeting?” He asks, handing her a cup of freshly poured tea.

“It was okay,” she replies, kicking off her boots and sitting next to him on the bed. “You know Seteth, overly concerned as always.” She chuckles, taking the tea and blowing on it slightly. “It would seem that you had an interesting day today. Hiding behind pillars and bushes as your friends harass me with offers of tea and interior design.” 

“They’re just jealous,” he laughs as he sips on his tea. “Apparently I’m your favourite.” 

Ah, so that was the point they were trying so hard to prove today, with their dream catches and flowers and indecent proposals. A determined group, her lions. 

She takes his cup of tea, ignoring the confused noise he makes as she sets the still steaming cups on her desk. She returns to the bed, but instead of sitting beside him, she instead clambers into his lap, straddling his hips as she loosely wraps her arms around his neck, drawing him in for a deep kiss. She groans into his mouth as she feels his hands glide down her back and grip her thigh, tugging on a handful of his hair in response. 

The kiss leaves her near breathless as she pulls away, his eyes dark as she tugs her shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor as she plants slow, open mouthed kisses up his neck until her lips graze over the shell of his ear. 

“Wherever did they get that idea?”

  
  


__________

  
  


“Where is Felix?” Annette asks between repeated glances at the door. “I don’t want to miss a rare opportunity to rub a loss in his face.” 

The seat beside Sylvain is still empty, even as the dinner rush comes and goes, leaving the Blue Lions and a few stray soldiers in the dining room. “It is unlike him to miss a meal during the Spice Festival.” 

As if summoned by the word ‘spice,’ Sylvain catches Felix sauntering into the dining hall, an unusual spring in his step and his sword belt hanging off his hips looser than usual as he lines up at the kitchen counter. The crooked smile on his face is back, his cheeks rosy as the cook fills his plate. He’s about to call out to his oddly chipper friend when a flash of mint hair draws Felix’s attention, and his smile widens.

The professor is smiling too, and while it’s not as obvious as Felix, her cheeks are flushed, and the collar of her shirt rests a little higher than usual. 

It takes a few seconds for the pieces to fall into place, and he kicks himself for not picking up on it sooner. 

He should have known it the second she handed him a dagger.

**Author's Note:**

> Sylvain is actually having a hard time telling if the bruise on Felix's neck is a lovebite or an actual bruise. Bladesexual foreplay is weird.


End file.
